Dear Camille,

I grew up in a small town in the Lake District in the North of England. As a young lad I loved the mountain bike and the feeling of rattling skinny arms and knobbly knees down rocky descents of slate and limestone in the wild fells and woods of Wainwright’s back yard. Through one thing and then the next I eventually found myself in the South of England, working away in the capital. I assumed that this was the end of my mountain bike days and duly sold all fat wheeled possessions to buy a road bike. Road cycling quickly became my adult replacement for muddy faced giddiness on childhood trails. It’s taken me far and wide, on long trips and races,  but recently I've found myself craving that extra level of adventure you can eek out of an extra 20mm of tread and have been exploring the bridleways of the EAST myself during this last year of lockdown. It became a place for me to reset and escape the bustle of London life that is far from my natural habitat and level of comfort. The EAST became a special place for me this last year as I fell in love with the simplicity of exploring forgotten farm tracks and byways and getting comfortable on thick rubber and loose stones once again. I think it would be somehow poetic to finish the year racing a huge distance on these trails I've grown so fond of, a kind of summary or neat conclusion to this little chapter of my cycling life. I'd love to be a part of it. Thank you.

 Kindest Regards

Josh

As entrance to Further EAST, organiser Camille asked that all applicants explained their rationale for competing in the ride. A kind of litmus test on our character, I guessed, so as to ensure we weren’t the type to sabotage our rivals, don testogel patches or hunt podiums by sneaking cortisone shots in bivvi bags. This exercise, in lieu of some ludicrous sportif entry fee, served to set the frame of reference for our rides. In articulating our intent and questioning our inner reasons for racing it served as a reminder of the bigger picture, the bigger question of why we ride and why we wished to give up on a weekend of home comforts to chase rear lights down muddy ditches at all hours of the day. My response above, was, for the most part true but Camille’s question rung in my ears throughout the early hours as I shouted at my bike to navigate the lumpy grass with better judgement. “WHY !?” .

2021, another year, is drawing to its close. This time of year always serves to put me in a reflective mood and I want to revisit that question of why I wished to race FURTHER with more personal truth and honesty. Given Camille and I had never met before he welcomed me with open arms to his amazing family home that weekend, I think he may have been a little disturbed by this long monologue of personal detail on his application form. But hey, here’s what I wished to say. Thanks Camille - I know it wasn't your intent to become agony aunt for two-wheeled qualms but thanks for organising, the opportunity and this free therapy. Here goes.

Dear Camille,

2021 – well, what to say. Good plans lie in ruin whilst half ideas became great memories. Spontaneity roulette was played with frustration though I can’t complain. Some big things changed in my life; Kelsy and I got a place to call home and had quite the ridiculous post-covid wedding season seeing friends and family tie up some long-delayed plans, we even got hitched ourselves! In amongst this I finally finished a long courtship with a degree that concluded a decade of parental nagging who have long since worried I spend too much time in the saddle and not enough time on study. Hopefully now I can stick to what I know best. These plans though, significant sounding enough and cause for due celebration did not scratch the itch in my soul for misguided adventure. If anything, I took on too much this year. Houses, weddings and universities these days are, by their very nature, black holes of paperwork, admin and funds. I burnt out somewhere mid August and sleep walked through final assessments and wedding prep, somehow rallying at the final hour to scrape a pass and fulfil the arts and crafts project our table arrangements had become. I must caveat this at this point as Kelsy will no doubt be reading this with growing concern and scorn. It was a great day. Celebrating our love with the people we do love was one of the best. Up there, perhaps, with a moonlight ascent of the Galibier.

However, whilst all the above makes me glow with the reflected warmth of our close friends and family there are the prickles of unease at growing up too quickly. Talk of mortgages, property in brick and mortar still sit a little uneasy with the free roaming nomadic ideals I raved about in my early 20s. In the past I've always satisfied this wanderer inside by spending hours on the bike. Regular riding has always created a sense of calm and balance in my life. The bike, ever the great equaliser, has been a needed constant in the turmoil of these past years but truth be told I'd fallen off the wagon this year. I'd pressed snooze one too many times and given up the ghost of an FTP to talk publicly about. The coffee stop has got a little earlier every time as my legs have grown used to Netflix without the turbo. 

With the Trans-Pyrenees cancelled another year for obvious reasons I luckily don't have to test these extra kilos and a fading resolve on a rather daunting looking altitude graph. I do however, still have the enthusiasm if not the fitness for such an event. More, I think I need it. 

Further East promises distraction in the focus needed, stability in riding its changing terrain and comfort for the mind in fair exchange for discomfort on the body. I wish to sleep in fields, under leaking canopies of leaves and ceilings of stars. I wish to wake to skylark song in pastel pink skies and ride through amber sunsets to the cold embrace of night. I wish to wearily lean my bike on signposts to foreign places, rest on village greens, drink from rivers and eat junk food under the halogen haze of petrol forecourts. I wish for the time to process, to daydream, to plan, to quieten the inner restlessness and shake off the sluggishness that has dampened motivation and clouded ambition this past year. Most importantly I wish to be inspired. To peer once again into the reserves of what can and could be achieved.

Thanks for the opportunity. Thanks Camille. Thanks FURTHER. All the best for 2022.

Kindest Regards

Josh

Photo credits : All the good snaps below are by the talented lads at Albion Cycling.